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He worked his way along the dock, looking for any sign of the cartel. There were plenty of dockworkers, but not the men he was after.
Near a boat, he spotted a couple of thugs with the same tattoos as the others. He made progress up the dock, staying out of sight until he was close to the two acting as sentries.
Rip came up behind one and chopped the back of his neck, knocking him to the ground. He’d be out for a while, maybe permanently. The other drew a gun, but Rip grabbed his wrist and twisted. The gun fell. A hard blow to the gut, followed by an elbow thrust to the temple, took him out of action.
Crouching down, Rip stepped aboard the boat, then made his way along the starboard side. The engine started up, the hum vibrating the hull. It was a propeller craft, so he guessed Lela would be transported out of the harbor then transferred to a larger ship.
Two gang members were dragging Lela, with her kicking and resisting. There was a beefy dude on her left and a taller one on her right. Each one had an arm. The tape over her mouth muffled her screams. She couldn’t fight, because her arms were taped to her sides. It was just as well, since Lela would have given them her worst.
But fighting those vipers, she’d likely be killed. Rip would take care of them for her.
Without a sound, Rip sneaked up behind and put a gun to the back of the beefy man’s head. “Let her go.”
The tall one pulled a knife, and Rip snatched it right out of his hand. The idiot lunged for it, but a stab to the gut stopped him cold.
The beefy thug swung at Rip, who ducked then shot the man in the knee. He sealed the deal with another shot to the shoulder.
With the gangsters out of commission, Rip scooped Lela into his arms and carried her to the back of the boat. Gunshots would have attracted unwanted attention. When out of sight, Rip removed the tape from Lela’s mouth.
“Rip…oh my God. They were going to kill me.”
After removing the tape from her body, Rip pulled her close. “I’m here, darling. You’re with me.”
Then a noise alerted Rip and he pulled his gun.
A cartel minion appeared from around the corner. “Well, isn’t this touching?” The gangster pointed a gun at Lela. “Throw your weapon overboard or I’ll shoot her.”
Rip hesitated, but then tossed his gun into the water.
The intruder wasn’t quite as big as the others had been, but his expression revealed a greater confidence. His dark eyes were like marbles, dull and devoid of life. His shirt was tight across his chest and rode up his arms, revealing the bulge of his biceps.
He had the type of tattoos the others had, but the art on his arms signified something more. Down one forearm were the letters D E A T H.
Over the bicep of his other arm was a long gold dagger with an elaborate etching on the hilt. “Are you the asshole who stabbed me?” Rip said.
An evil grin stretched his lips. “The name is Almanza, a name you’ll remember. I’m not done with you, SEAL.”
Rip was familiar with the gang and the tattoos, but this one was obviously elite. Judging by the body art and the assassination attempt, he was an enforcer.
“Your boyfriend isn’t going to live much longer,” Almanza said, waving the gun at Lela. “Then you’ll be ours.”
The asshole’s threat enraged Rip. He’d had enough. He hadn’t made it this far rescuing Lela just to let this creep take her.
Almanza swaggered over, a smirk on his ugly mug. He pointed the gun at Rip. “It’s going to be such a pleasure ending your life. You’ve been a pain in the ass, SEAL.”
In a flash, Rip whipped his arm at the assailant. The gun flew up, out of his hand, and skidded out of reach. From that point, it was hand-to-hand combat, Rip’s specialty.
He threw the first punch, and Almanza reeled. But he recovered fast, and laughed at his challenger. It was a mocking sound, further infuriating Rip and making him want to take the bastard’s head off.
Launching into battle, Rip got in several kicks and heavy blows to the man’s head. But Almanza was a worthy opponent. It seemed that he’d been trained for street fighting. The fight was brutal, and one of Rip’s eyes was swollen nearly shut.
The fighting continued, one hard blow after the other. Several times, Rip had him, but the evil son of a bitch kept fighting. Then he got in a heavy punch to Rip’s side, and another.
A groan from Rip garnered a smile from Almanza. Through heavy breathing, the assassin said, “I see my dagger did some damage. I’m here to finish the job.”
Rip put his hand on his side and came away with blood. The stitches must have opened up.
“Fuck you, asshole,” Rip said, and, with a growl, went for him.
